


Marigolds

by MagicalPoolNoodle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12591632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalPoolNoodle/pseuds/MagicalPoolNoodle
Summary: My brain wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote this. Thanks brain.





	Marigolds

Every year he came here every year on the same date. It was probably a stupid thing to do, dangerous perhaps, if anyone ever came here. In ten years, he’d never seen anyone here. Not at this specific place and really, he wasn’t surprised. Although, he had to admit that a part of him did care. Why did he even bother to come here? It seemed foolish and maybe a little self centered? Yet, still he visited.

Marigolds were left here every year on the same date. No one from his past that he’d been close with even knew their significance. Well, except him. That one man who had managed to make him care, feel. Love. Real love, not just the fleeting heat of a crush. Real love. 

Every year he questioned himself. Why did he even bother leaving them here? Probably a distant, desperate hope that they would guide the dead to a better place. To peace. So far, it hadn’t worked yet and now he was starting to wonder if his hope had turned into the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Perhaps this curse was preventing it. 

As always, he wasn’t wearing his uniform when he came here. It was quiet at the graveyard and quieter at this end. He clothing was simple, just civvies, his hoodie pulled up over his head to try and hide his face. It was ten years today. Ten years since Switzerland. Ten years of bitterness and agony, hatred and-

Every year he had been the only one here, but this year was different. Someone else was here. Marigolds at their feet, their head bowed, hands in the pockets of the rather faded jeans. He stopped in his tracks and stared. He knew that shape. That body. 

The man was silent as he stood at the grave site, but he felt a presence, as if he was being watched. He head raised and he twisted to look back behind him. One white brow rose in confusion when all he saw was smoke fading away and marigolds, laying on the ground.


End file.
